Starstruck
by Beautiful Thief
Summary: It's been years since the last Winter Cup, where Aomine and Kise's life paths appeared to diverge. When Kise makes his home in the same city as Aomine's team and reconnects with him, though, it's not an unwelcome development.
1. Prologue

Happy birthday to my dearest, most wonderful cimberelly ; you have made the last six months (can you believe it's been that long already?) absolutely wonderful and incredible, and you continue to inspire me. I look forward to our conversations, whether we're crying about these dumb babies, plotting, or doing other things, and you are absolutely so precious. I am thankful every day for the fact that you reached out to comment on Heartstone, and set the ball rolling on our friendship and partnership. So thank you so so much for coming into my life; and I really hope that you enjoy this, even though we totally plotted it out together and you know what's going to happen.

* * *

><p>This is the last time.<p>

Daiki knows it is; Kise hasn't been shy about sharing his post school plans.

The way he'd looked at Daiki as he'd told him was branded into his mind.

It made him angry, made him _burn_. Kise could do anything, he'd proven it time and time again, fucking mimic, copycat; _Kise could do anything_.

Daiki couldn't afford to have his mind on anything but this game, this moment, this last forty minutes in which everything Kise was, was a product of him, for better or for worse. He wanted to sear it into his bones, how it felt to play with everything against Kise, how it felt to have Kise play with everything he had against him.

_"I'm going international,"_ he'd said, and his smile had been soft and gentle like Daiki was a scared animal, so he'd thrown his basketball at Kise and he'd finally, finally caught it.

_"What's your point?"_ Daiki had asked, as if he didn't know exactly what it meant. Kise had followed in his wake for years. It was impossible not to know that this was Kise's final departure, the last piece to fall since the moment he'd stood on the court in their first year of high school and found the resolve to bring Daiki down from where he admired him and back to someplace human.

If Kise had understood that Daiki knew, he hadn't let on. It was hard to tell sometimes with Kise, who could read people so effortlessly. _"This winter,"_ he'd said. _"It'll be the last time we play against each other like this."_

Kise could do anything. Daiki knew and believed it in someplace sacred and special that no one and nothing could touch, and that's why it burned so bitterly that Kise had chosen to try and become a celebrity, a supermodel, rather than finish the chase down the court. Kise could go pro; they all knew it was easily within his reach and talent, and Daiki would have been right there next to him—

These are tomorrow's thoughts, tomorrow's melancholy. Tonight, he and Kise are going to burn brighter than they ever have before, together, one last time.

Daiki steps out onto the court, and the only things he lets himself feel are the ball and the way it feels to have Kise chase after him one last time; he lets himself play with all the love he has in his heart for this game and Kise Ryouta.

* * *

><p>The plain and honest truth of it all was that at between the ages of sixteen and nineteen, Aomine Daiki was head over heels in love with stupid fucking new-girlfriend-every-fucking-week Kise Ryouta.<p>

Daiki was never an overly thoughtful person; it was too much wasted time and effort for the most part, to think about unnecessary and/or troubling things. The revelation that he was kind of hot for Kise and probably wouldn't mind making out with him and doing other significantly less G-rated things with him wasn't one that he dwelled on for too long.

After all, at least he had taste; it was pretty much universally recognised that Kise was hot. Well, some people liked to use words like _beautiful_ and _handsome_ and _gorgeous_ and _pretty_ and shit like that. It all really boiled down to the fact that Kise had a nice face and body to look at.

So being attracted to Kise wasn't special. Sometimes, it seemed as if half of Japan was attracted to Kise.

The troublesome thing was that Daiki actually had _feelings_ for Kise. It wasn't so much about the fact that Daiki wouldn't mind fucking him (and he wouldn't. He _very much_ wouldn't. In one of his more curious moments, he'd looked up how it was done, and well... even though it sounded like a lot of work, he'd totally be up for it if Kise was). The problem, for Daiki, was that he knew Kise was whiny and annoying and never shut up and had an enormous ego and was a little shit, and he _liked him anyway_.

That was the bit he didn't really like to think about.

So he didn't really. He ignored it, and he ignored Satsuki's veiled and not-so-veiled comments about it – and how the _fuck_ did she know anyway, when he'd never breathed a word about it? – and he pretended that it didn't matter, because it _didn't_.

Lying to yourself is a bad habit for a number of reasons, but the biggest one is probably because of the moment you catch yourself out in your own lie; because after their last game is over there's nothing for Daiki to focus on but the thought _Kise is leaving_.

And he can't pretend that he doesn't care and that it doesn't matter because it _does_, and there's a feeling like maybe he was going to regret never having confessed to Kise, even though he still can't imagine ever telling him.

Knowing Kise, he'd probably be in contact. But there was definitely the sense that there would never be another time like this in their lives where they were so close.

He dealt with it pretty much the way he dealt with everything;

Daiki ignored it, and kind of hoped it would sort itself out in the end.


	2. Chapter 1

He should have seen it coming.

Everyone around was in high spirits post-game – they'd pulled a win tonight, and Daiki could still feel the aftermath of the way electric had felt as if it pulsed through his body as he moved. His teammates are all chucking sweaty clothes and wet towels back and forth at each other now that the reporters had left. Boys never really did grow up, it seemed.

It was good. Basketball was good, and Daiki finally thought he'd found the place in his life where he was happy. He'd managed to become good enough at English to connect with the people around him, and most of his teammates lived and breathed basketball the way he did. He was doing what he loved while being challenged in a way he'd once never thought was going to be possible. And he was making a bunch of money while he did so. So long as he didn't have some kind of injury, he'd be set for life when he retired.

Everything seemed to be going well and to plan. That's how Daiki figures he should have known that something was going to happen.

"Hey, Daiki," called one of his teammates. Andy, their starting center. "There's someone wanting to talk to you."

"If it's a reporter, I don't wanna," he answered. He hated talking to reporters. They always wanted to talk to him because he was the ace; but even though they were pretty good about his English not being great, and despite it now being passable, Daiki always felt uncomfortable and clumsy in speaking heavily accented English in front of the camera.

"Nah, he says he's a friend of yours. He looks kind of familiar, but I don't know where I've seen him before? Tall, blond, looks a bit like he's from the same place as you are?"

That sounded a lot like...

Daiki frowned, and pulled a shirt on. "Yeah, okay. I think I know who it is."

He stepped outside and it was almost like stepping back in time a little bit; or it would be, if Kise were wearing a uniform too, instead of the undoubtedly high-class suit he's wearing. There are small physical changes; Kise is a little taller and thinner than he used to be, since his job doesn't require him to have the kind of build he had while playing ball, and his face has reached its full maturity and lost the little bit of childish softness it had had left.

He's as beautiful as he ever was.

"Kise," he said, and laughed a little. "What the hell are you doing here?"

Even though Daiki's smiling and laughing, Kise pouted. "Mean, Aominecchi," he said. "I came all this way and used all my wiles to get myself back here to see you, and you're not even happy to see me?"

"If you'd really wanted to get in contact, you would have gotten my number from Satsuki," Daiki pointed out.

Kise puffed out his cheeks. The expression was strangely childish, especially when Daiki looked at his attire. "It was a surprise!" he complained. He dropped the look quickly in favour of a fond smile, though. "You played well, Aominecchi."

"Of course I did. It's me, after all."

Kise ran a hand through his hair, and Daiki's eyes caught the flash of blue still sitting in his ear all these years later. "You're hopeless, Aominecchi," he despaired. "Shooting me down at every turn, when all I'm trying to do is reconnect with you!"

Daiki leaned against the wall and grinned. "It always was fun stirring you up," he admitted. "I can't help myself."

Kise's shoulder slumped in mock-despair, and he sighed. "It's not fair, aren't you supposed to have grown out of this bullying by now?"

"Just give me your phone number already, Kise," Daiki groaned. "That's what you're here to do, right? Some grand reunion and a promise to catch up?"

"You're no fun, Aominecchi," Kise informed him. "Phone please."

"It's in my bag, hang on." He ducked back into the change room.

"So, who's your friend? He's famous, right?" Andy asked. The rest of the team was listening in with various degrees of obviousness, and they had clearly been discussing his visitor.

"His name is Ki- Ryouta." Kise's given name felt odd on his tongue after a lifetime using his last. "Ryouta Kise."

Andy snapped his fingers. "Ah, my girlfriend likes him, that's how I know him. He's a model, right? How the hell do you know a model?"

"Why _shouldn't_ I know a model?" Daiki answered, a little insulted. "But Kise and I go back to middle school. We played on the same basketball team."

He dug his phone out of his bag. No missed messages, but that's to be expected; most of his American social circle is in this room, and Satsuki would be sleeping. She records his games and watches them later.

He pushed back out into the hall; Kise was leaning against the wall and playing a game on his phone. It was brand new and shiny; just like it always had been back during high school as well.

He pocketed it when he looked up at Daiki.

"Why are you putting it away, idiot?" he asks. "Gimme."

Kise beamed as he pulled his phone back out and pressed it into Daiki's hand before snatching his own phone away. "I didn't think you'd want me to have your number, since you were always the crankiest about getting mails from me."

He paused midway through entering his contact details into Kise's phone.

Kise's got one of those sly looks on his face, like now that he's gotten a reaction he's _definitely_ going to emulate his old messaging habits _just_ to annoy him.

There's an old part of him that aches at the familiarity of having Kise around like this, especially after he'd resigned himself years ago to knowing that they would never be as close as they used to be. It made the idea of reconnection alluring. The nostalgia inevitably attached to Kise would soothe any homesickness; though it didn't often pop up anymore, it did happen sometimes. Usually he called Satsuki, but it would be nice to have someone more immediately available.

And Kise's always been pretty easy to get to spend time with him. Daiki won't even have to do the hard work of admitting he wants to see him; Kise will probably want to beg some time off him whenever he can.

Knowing that, he shrugged and continued putting his number in Kise's phone. "I can block your number if it gets too bad," he said. He probably wouldn't, but that wasn't the point.

Kise sighed. "Mean." But he was already done putting his own number in Daiki's phone.

As they traded back, Daiki noticed Kise's hands had lost the roughness that they'd accumulated while he'd still been playing basketball.

Kise smiled and pushed away from the wall, his phone in hand. Daiki knew better than to think the movements were anything but calculated.

"It was really good to see you play again, Aominecchi," he said. "Makes me wish I'd maybe kept going with basketball instead. We should catch up sometime! We'll play one on one for old times' sake."

"It'll go just the same as it did back then too," Daiki agreed, and Kise laughed.

"Probably," he admitted. "It's been a while. I'm too busy to make any connections with people who might play with me." He took a few backwards steps. "Anyway, be in touch, okay!"

"More like you'll be in touch, Kise," Daiki called, and Kise grinned before turning on his heel. He waved his hand over his head in goodbye; but he didn't look back.

Well, it never was Kise's style anyway.

Daiki sighed, and looked down at his phone. Out of curiosity, as he made his way back into the locker room, he checked how Kise had put his name in.

He couldn't help but laugh at the way Kise had framed his name in sparkles and hearts; he must have activated the emoji keyboard on his phone while Daiki had been thinking about whether to go through with giving Kise his number.

Daiki couldn't bring himself to change it, and pocketed his phone before entering the change room again, because as much as he liked the guys, the last thing he wanted was for one of them to catch him mooning over his phone.

"We going for dinner?" someone yelled out across the room. It sounded like Lyall, their backup point guard.

"Course we are," answered someone closer to Daiki. When he looked over, it was the starting shooting guard, James.

"No drinking," was half-heartedly shouted over the room by their captain; Daniel, their starting point guard. "You know the drill."

The rest of the team made a theatrical fuss about their hard-ass captain, though they'd all been around long enough to know that drinking during the season was a bad idea for a number of reasons, and Daiki smiled slightly, chucked his phone back into his bag, and joined in the easy camaraderie as the team began to slowly migrate out.

"Kise came by the other day."

It wasn't easy to find the time to have calls with Satsuki. She could be a very busy and determined woman, after all. She was eyeing off a CEO position – her five year plans were meticulous and terrified him – and she worked a _lot_.

But the two of them had a standing weekly call organised. Once a week, no matter what, they had a the time set aside between their work commitments and timezones to keep in touch, because Satsuki, even after all this time, couldn't shake her reflexive need to check in on him and make sure he wasn't fucking up his life.

She hummed thoughtfully. "It took him longer than I expected," she commented. "You've been living in the same city for a while now."

Daiki scowled at the screen Satsuki's face glowed from. "Why didn't you warn me?"

Satsuki looked at him in that very familiar 'are you _kidding?_' kind of way that made Daiki warm with familiarity and closeness. "You shouldn't have needed me to," she said, deliberately slowly, because he knew she often compared speaking with him to being like speaking to a child. "Did you exchange your new numbers?"

Daiki made an affirmative humming noise, and leaned back into the chair, stretching his arms above his head, and she smiled.

"I'm glad you two have reconnected. Ki-chan was always special to you, wasn't he?"

There was rarely any point in lying to Satsuki, or denying things she already knew; and she _did_ already know. "Well, yeah," he answered. "It's all in the past, though. Kise's the same as always, right?"

Satsuki nodded. "He's rarely sighted with the same person more than a handful of times," she agreed. "They're just all much more high profile then they used to be." She giggled. "He has a _reputation_."

Daiki snorted.

"Don't make that noise," he was chastised. "Don't think I haven't heard about _your_ antics, Dai-chan, even if _you_ don't tell me about them."

He rolled his eyes at her. "Don't start. I don't do that during the season, and I've never been half as bad as Kise." He seized the opportunity to change the subject. "Speaking of love lives, are you still dating that loser?"

"Higa-kun is not a loser," she argued.

"He's _definitely_ a loser," Daiki said, and smirked as she huffed.

They were quiet for a moment, taking in the other through the video connection.

"Are you going to come home through the off season this year?" Satsuki asked, voice quiet.

"Haven't thought about it," he answered. "Season's still got a while to go before it ends. Why, do you miss me?"

"Who would miss a brute like you?" Satsuki teased.

"Well, _I_ definitely don't miss your nagging."

He was going to get it for sure the next time they were in the same place – Satsuki never forgot _anything_ – but he never really could help himself.

"So, what did you think of this week's game?"

Satsuki shuffled around her desk for something. "It's still too hard to tell a lot of things when I have to rely on commercial broadcast recordings," she said, like she did every time, as if he would forget, "but you were moving much like normal. Favouring your right a little bit I think. Did you pull something on your left?"

Daiki's daily routine could vary somewhat, but generally, it tended to involve practice five times a week, with weights sessions at least twice a week; game day involved no practice, and the rest day was always the day after, before it all started again. He had a surprising, and annoying, number of appointments he had to keep – dieticians who despaired over his lack of care for diet, recovery sessions post-practice, meetings with team sponsors occasionally.

His teammates were cool, and sometimes they went out; but training was usually tiring, and some of the guys had girlfriends or families, so bar crawls and clubbing (which Daiki enjoyed less, although it tended to involve a lot more women rubbing up against him) tended to happen only during the off-season when they could drink.

But it was fine. Daiki had no plans to settle down in America permanently, after all. Japan was home at the end of the day, the place where his parents and Satsuki were; he had no desire to meet someone who would want to tie him here permanently. And when the season was on, he had no time or energy for a girlfriend anyway. He was still pretty lazy, after all, and any effort he wanted to expend on another person got spent preserving the connection with Satsuki who was, easily, the most important person in his life.

He was dozing off on the couch after practice – he had all afternoon free, so he'd decided he'd have a nap, because he never got to nap as much as he liked anymore – when his phone buzzed.

He reached for the device lazily and looked at it.

_Kise Ryouta_ – surrounded by far too many sparkles – was the sender.

It was actually fairly surprising that it'd taken the pretty boy so long to send a message. It could probably wait, but...

He opened the message.

_We should meet and catch up properly! Maybe play 1-on-1 for old time's sake? _八(＾□＾*)  
><em>I haven't played in a while, but I won't let that stop me from beating you! <em>੭•̀ω•́)੭

He snorted, and began to compose a reply, his intention to nap put aside for the moment. Probably, Kise would blow up his phone if he didn't answer, he reasoned, and would just prevent him from getting the rest he wanted. It'd be a faster route to sleep if he answered now.

At least, that was what he would have told someone, if there had been anyone around to ask.


End file.
